


i'm not okay (i promise)

by arixtides



Series: spn prompt fills [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cute Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 08:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5778829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arixtides/pseuds/arixtides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He let out a sigh not unlike the one Sam had heaved before.</p><p>“Will you guys feel better if I promise not to throw myself in danger’s way the next time around?”</p><p>Cas’ relief was almost palpable, and Dean couldn’t help but smile reassuringly at his friend.<br/>He elected to ignore Sam’s look of utter unpersuasion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm not okay (i promise)

**Author's Note:**

> prompt by zxully: I don't have anything in particular in mind unless of course you're in a mood for some Dean whump and general Destiel hurt/comfort, which Ialways enjoy and think there's not enough of it on this website (not that Dean doesn't get whumped enough on the show...).
> 
>  
> 
> A/N: And here I am, doing my best to please all of those that just want to spend their days wrapped in a blanket while reading hurt/comfort destiel fics. Enjoy! 
> 
> (also come say hi on tumblr if you want; [ reblog/like this story here ](http://arixtides.tumblr.com/post/137755253472/im-not-okay-i-promise) ♥)

“He’s kinda nice when he isn’t killing people, though,” Dean couldn’t help but point out.

It was true, too: there’d been situation in which they’d been treated much worse than at this particular moment. Their tormentor had left them to fetch an axe or whatever he wanted to use to kill them a few minutes ago and he’d even left the TV running and had asked them if they wanted some coffee. They had, of course, declined since he could’ve drugged it, but the offer had been made.  


(Dean had wanted to accept, actually, but of course Sam had to be a spoilsport.)

 

“Yes, Dean, you’re _so_ right. He may be a crazy serial killer but at least he’s got manners; because _that_ makes this so much better,” Sam all but spat, not quite able to believe how ridiculous his brother was being. How could they even have the same DNA?

 

“Hey now. All I’m saying is, it could’ve been worse. I’m trying to be positive.”

 

The brothers looked at each other; Dean with an easy-going smile, Sam glaring back completely incredulous.

 

“Wait, let me see whether I got this right. So we’re detained in a house. By a renowned serial killer. We can’t move because of some magical voodoo we don’t know. And you’re saying it _could’ve been worse_? That’s not ‘being positive’, that’s being completely deluded and unrealistic.”

 

“Sounds to me like you need to be way less pessimistic. What’s the worst that can happen, really?”

 

“We could literally die, you idiot.” Sam replied, deadpan.

 

Dean considered this for a moment, then said, “Well, we haven’t died these past years, and we really have faced worse.”

 

“That doesn’t mean we’re invincible. You know what, you’ve become rather cocky since you came back from Hell.”

 

With a fake affronted gasp, Dean stared at his brother, “Are you complaining that I came back? I feel honestly so attacked right now. This hurts me, Sammy. That place in my chest where average people have their hearts? I can feel the harsh sting of –”

 

“Why do I even put up with you, god damn it? Can you try to be even minimally helpful? At all?” Sam complained – he downright bitched, so to speak – without any ounce of sympathy for his brothers supposed emotional trauma at being called out on bullshit.

 

“Okay, but for real,” Dean replied, mock affront in his voice, “I probably did more for our safety in these past two minutes than you did ever since we got here.”

 

Sam was about to argue that statement – because he personally felt it was bullshit – when he heard the distinctive ‘whoosh’ of Cas’ trench coat fluttering as he appeared in front of them, glancing at Sam, before focusing his intent stare on Dean.

 

“You were correct, the perpetrator did protect his home against angelic intrusion. It was likely his first contact with banning sigils, however, as I had only minimal problems when I tried to enter,” He then took in their situation – sitting on a couch facing a running TV; immovable, only able utilise bodily functions above the shoulder – then cocked his head in a questioning manner, “Have you yet figured out what spell binds you?”

 

“No,” Dean replied, shaking his head, “But thanks for coming here, man. You’re saving our asses. Sam was all outta ideas.”

 

“I wasn’t!” Sam protested, though he didn’t elaborate further. Instead, a little bugged that he himself hadn’t thought to call for Cas, he addressed the angel himself, “But, thank you. It’s great that you’re trying to help.”

 

Looking faintly amused by their bickering antics, Cas inclined his head and replied, “You are quite welcome.”

 

And the rescue went remarkably smooth in the beginning: after very little time, Cas had figured out what spell had bound them, and how to get rid of it. Once he’d freed them both and they were ready to leave, however, they could hear keys rattling.

 

Numerous things happened at once: Dean grabbed a vase from the coffee table, preparing himself for a fight. Sam grabbed the pot of coffee, relieved to find it still somewhat hot, hoping it may at least throw that guy off the track. Cas frowned in mild annoyance, a firm grip on his materialising angel blade. The door opened, their abductor entered his flat.

 

“Oh, are you fucking kidding me?” He hissed, and with a flick of his wrist, he had Sam (who had been standing closest to the door) flying against the next best wall. “Is that how you repay someone’s hospitality?”

 

Dean felt every single muscle in his body tense, ready to strike with his (deathly) vase (of doom). He couldn’t much help Sam since he was so far away, but he suspected that he’d be attacked next.

 

He suspected wrong.

He could pinpoint the exact millisecond that this asshole decided to instead attack Cas first, raising his hand to aim probably the same kind of shock wave at Cas that he had aimed at Sam just seconds before.

 

Dean had no idea when or why he made the particular decision, only realised he’d apparently made it when he was already in front of Cas, taking the full extent of the blow to protect his friend.

 

The stupid vase (of doom) busted due to the shock wave, and he just knew that pulling those (mostly) tiny shards out of his hands and his upper body now that they were being pressed inside of his flesh would hurt like a bitch. By the time he opened his eyes again, he was lying atop of the coffee table, prickly sensation all over his fingers, arms and torso. Sam had obviously gotten a good hit in, and Cas had apparently finished the dude off with his knife.

 

His relief that all had gone well was short-lived when he saw Cas and Sam glare at him in tandem.

 

“What?” Dean asked with a groan.  
  
He hated when they were in league against him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Dean. We had an agreement. I would come to your help when you desperately needed it while you would strive not to seek unnecessary danger.” Cas reprimanded him later, none too gently, after they had gone back to the motel and they’d removed all of the shards, applied anti-septic and wrapped him up nicely.

 

“What, you call protecting my friends ‘unnecessary danger’?”

 

Cas just looked at him as if to say ‘well, duh’ (not that Dean could really imagine Cas to say it that way that) whereas Sam just let out a longsuffering sigh.

 

“Dean, he’s a celestial being. You are a blood bag on two legs. Who’s more likely to die, huh?”

 

Dean didn’t deign that with a reply. He tried to ignore that guilty feeling that welled up inside of him at seeing Cas so distressed, eyebrows drawn together tightly, lips a firm line, eyes downcoast and unhappy.

 

He let out a sigh not unlike the one Sam had heaved before.

 

“Will you guys feel better if I promise not to throw myself in danger’s way the next time around?”

 

Cas’ relief was almost palpable, and Dean couldn’t help but smile reassuringly at his friend.  
He elected to ignore Sam’s look of utter unpersuasion.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I hate your friend.”

“He’s _not_ my friend.” Sam argued, shoulders hunched and heavy sigh just barely held back.

Dean, adept at reading body language and subtext as he had always been, immediately had the wrong idea of what Sam was feeling that exact moment.

“Don’t look so defeated, man. We’ve all been there, being cheated and lied to by a friend.”

“Defeated? Dean, I’m fucking tired. Can’t you feel it? This forest, it’s draining us.”

 

They’d been here for hours now, wandering around this forest trying to find the children that were taken from the nearby town. An informant, whom Sam had taken an instant liking to, had been their most trusted source. Dean had been hesitant but Sam usually had better people skills and besides, Dean tended to be naturally distrustful so he didn’t read too much into his instant dislike for the guy.

Turns out, he should’ve, probably.

“Wait, you mean, like, literally?” And now that he was forced to think about it, to consider it, Dean felt it as well. The gentle, subtle decline of his energy, as if it was pulsating in his fingertips and toes before gently streaming out of his body. “Holy fuck, this forest is literally feeding on us, isn’t it.”

 

Since it wasn’t much of a question, Sam didn’t bother to reply. If Dean could feel it, too, it wasn’t his imagination (as he’d hoped it would be, since that idea was less terrifying than being in forest that tries to eat you).

 

“If nothing else, at least that explains the missing children. They come here, and eventually die as the forest feasts on their energy.”

 

“For fuck’s sake, sometimes our life feels like a cheap horror movie. D’you reckon the adults send the children away on purpose? Because then it’d make sense why they’d tell your little friend to lead us here to fend for ourselves.”

 

“He’s not my – oh, you know what, never mind.  Whatever,” Sam shook his head, trying to clear his mind and focus on what was important. “Yes, I think so. But before we get too deep into thinking here, we probably should try to get out of here. And fast.”

 

“I know, I know, it’s just that I have this feeling that we’re close to _something_. You can feel it too, can’t you?”

 

Sam just nodded in reply, because yeah; he knew what Dean meant. Something heavy hung in the air, like a dark promise waiting to be fulfilled. The brothers could feel both the heady excitement of hunting as well as the petrifying trepidation of the unknown.

Call it hunter’s instincts or premonition. Something was close by, and its’ presence was so palpable that they couldn’t have turned their back on whatever monster was waiting for them even if they wanted to. It would be like breaking the codex to turn your back to the beast you’re meant to hunt.

 

So their only solution was to boldly go and kill that fucker that made this whole forest a death trap for any wanderer who got lost.

 

“Sam, you’re the reasonable one. Do you think we’re doing the smart thing by not running away?” Dean inquired, hand on his machete as he tried to spot any moving. It was eerily quiet in this forest. He’d noticed even as they first set foot in it that it was peculiar how not animals could be heard. He had thought it a little weird, but dismissed the thought as they moved forward.

He regretted that now; so many signs and forebodings he should have taken more seriously. Maybe he really had gotten too comfortable with his close encounters with death. For Sammy’s sake alone, however, he should have been more attentive.

 

“Maybe not the smart choice, but the right one. This thing, whatever it is, killed children.”

 

 _True that_ , Dean thought, _even you would accept that this is worth being irresponsible for, huh, Cas?_

Grim expressions had taken over both of their faces.  

 

* * *

 

 

He couldn’t remember much that came after which probably had to do with the fact that they were wholly unprepared and reckless to even approach a monster of which they’d known to be exactly where they, weak and vulnerable, were headed.

 

A cough struggled out of his mouth, his body barely able to do even that. Neither Sam nor Dean himself had felt just how exhausted and drained they were until Cas showed up, looked at them with that disappointed frown of his and beamed them out of there.

(Dean felt, like, 5% horribly guilty and 95% pretty indignant: after all, they had had good intentions, right?)

 

“You made me a promise.” Cas mumbled, rather quiet so as to not disturb Sam who had fallen asleep almost in the very instant his body registered that there was no more immediate danger to fear.

 

“I did. But that was different.”

 

“Something even I would accept as worth being irresponsible?”

 

“Are you mocking me right now, Cas?” Dean grumbled, slightly humoured despite being annoyed at Cas’ playing mother hen. “Wait, hold on. You _heard_ that?”

 

“Your sub-consciousness apparently settled this matter for you quite efficiently: it was informing me of how terrified and weak you were despite the forest spirit’s powers numbing your emotional and physical condition.”

 

“I wasn’t terrified. Or weak.” Dean argued. A guy gotta protect his hunter honour, right?  
Would’ve worked great, as well, if he hadn’t fallen asleep barely one second later.

 

Cas placed a hand gently on Dean’s forehead, worry apparent on the angel’s unguarded face. 

 

“… you had promised, Dean.”

 

Instead of vanishing, Cas sat down on the edge of the couch that Dean slept on. Maybe, it would sooth the tumult that his thoughts were currently if he were to watch over Dean tonight.

 

 

 

“Kill me.” Dean groaned, still feeling like shit. Sleeping helped a little, but he still felt like his body was too slow, his mind too foggy. At a hunt, he’d be inefficient at best. A hindrance, in the worst case.

 

Which was why Sammy decided to take off alone. His brother stared at him, feeling betrayed.

“Why do you get to hunt again? That’s un-fucking-fair.”

 

“Because an angel healed me. I’m good. You, however, you look like shit that got run over by a truck.”

 

Sam smirked so fucking pleased with himself, Dean wanted to strangle him.

 

“Assholes. Both of you.”

 

“Well, I didn’t promise the angel to be more responsible. That was you. It’s your own fault he’s pissed at you. Maybe you should apologise, be nice.”

 

The door was shut in Dean’s face after that, and Dean groaned. He wasn’t good with apologising and all that jazz.

 

“Shit.” He mumbled, staring at the wooden door frozen in trepidation – his mouth uncomfortably dry, hands clammy, teeth digging into his bottom lips so hard he was surprised he didn’t start bleeding.

 

Reluctant, almost shy, he peeked into the bed room which Castiel had refused to leave since he had healed Dean two hours ago. At first, Dean had tried nagging, whining and begging to get Cas to heal him as well, but then it had finally clicked that Cas was kinda pissed. After that, he’d tried to find words but they failed him again and again, and he had given up.  
Except avoiding the problem was over now for good, because he was alone with Cas and you could only ignore his looming presence and gloomy mood for so long before you felt terribly awkward and guilty and horrible.

 

“…Cas?” He inquired, voice just shy of inaudible. He really didn’t want to apologise, he was crappy at it. For a delirious moment he hoped that if he were quiet enough, maybe Cas would prove to be asleep so that he’d have more time to ponder what to say.

 

Only, of course, he wasn’t quite that lucky. Besides, angels didn’t even fucking sleep. What was wrong with him? Jesus. He’d really have to get a grip of himself. Around Cas, he’d lately been easily distracted, nervous, _shy_.

 

What was he? A thirteen year old girl mooning over Harry Styles? Hello no!

(Even though Harry Style’s was kinda hot. Not that Dean liked him excessively or whatever. He could just platonically appreciate attractive men in a platonic manner if they were, like, platonically hot.)

 

Whatever.  


Cas blinked slowly, owlishly, inclining his head to signal that he was listen. However, he refused to turn around or even look at Dean properly.

Dean frowned. How was he supposed to pull off his cute puppy eyes when Cas wouldn’t look at him? Half of Dean persuasion tactics only worked because he was kinda cute and somewhat irresistible, gad damn it.

 

“Cas, I just, I wanted to talk, I guess.”

 

“So then, talk.”

 

Well, Cas certainly wasn’t making this any easier, that much was sure.

 

“Yeah, uh. You know I’m not good with words.” Dean pointed out, forcing a nervous and awkward laugh.

 

“And yet, it was you who requested to speak to me. As it is, I believe it is common among humans that if a person is seeking forgiveness and reconciliation, they must show that they are truly remorseful. Since I am the one considered wronged in this particular context, I shall remain unimpressed and unmoved by anything less than an apology.”

 _Damn,_ Dean thought. You knew Cas was fucking mad if he spoke like a robot out of a science fiction film.

“I’m sorry, okay? I really am.”

 

Cas raised one eyebrow, looking utterly unimpressed. Dean had to admit that his apology might have been pretty underwhelming.

 

Well then, here goes nothing, Was all he thought before he moved closer to Cas, close enough to stand next to him, to stare at the side of his face; the lips, turned down at the corners, the eyes, fixed intently on the wall straight ahead, the shift of his jaw muscles as he clenched his teeth.

“Cas. Listen. I’m sorry. I promised, and I still fucked up. That’s what I usually do; I break promises and hearts and trust. I fuck up everywhere I go, whatever I do. And I’m always sorry when that happens. Because I hate that I hurt people. I hate even more that I don’t know what to do to make it better. I usually don’t even know how to apologise because I’m fucking useless. And you know what? You should be mad at me. You have every right to be. I’m a selfish ass, and that ain’t gonna change any time soon. I’m not asking you to like that side of me. I just kinda was hoping you’d accept it. Accept me. Despite the fact that I’m the shittiest person you’ll ever meet and I’m not worth any of your time.”

 

For a moment, neither said a word. Dean still stared at Cas, standing so close to him that their arms almost touched. He wanted so badly to reach out, look Cas in the eyes and make sure he’d have to realise that Dean was sincere in his apology.  
But he knew that this was Cas decision: if he wanted to accept these words, and offer his own in turn.

 

“Unacceptable.” Cas all but hissed, turning his head so that he could meet Dean eyes. For a second, Dean was completely flushed and wide-eyed at finding Cas face so unbearably close to his that he’d only have to lean in marginally to join their lips and kiss this man that he had desired so long, for whom he had lusted and suppressed said lust in a feeble attempt to ‘get over it’, whatever ‘it’ was that he felt for Cas.  


Then, the reply registered as well as Cas’ stormy and furious eyes and Dean’s blood ran cold.

 

Fuck, apparently Cas still thought he wasn’t genuine.

 

“Cas, please. I am sorry. I know I should have been more careful but –“

 

“What happened to you, Dean Winchester, Righteous Man, brightest and kindest soul of them all, to make yourself think so little of yourself?”

So, he maybe had shocked Dean into silence. It had been a while since he’d heard Cas be so gentle yet forceful. It was breath-taking to see his indignation, the way he aimed to protect Dean from everything, even himself.

 

“You are so selfless, and brave, and honest. You are good. Yet here you are, thinking that you should be mistreated and punished for what you did. What you did, you did because you considered it just. You had good intentions, and if anything, I should apologise for being so forceful in my worry. I would not worry if I could not stand you. I would not have stayed if I did not think of you as precious. You deserve not to be hurt, so I was upset. I apologise for, as you humans say, overreacting.”

 

“Cas… It’s okay. We both may have fucked up. Are we good?”

 

 Cas nodded, smiled.

 

“And… Thank you. It means a lot that you think so highly of me, even if all that trust may be ill-placed.”

 

This time, Cas shook his head. Tenderly, he placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

 

“You are truly worthy Dean. And I hope that one day I can make you see as much.”

 

For a mere second, he could feel chapped lips on his, and he opened his eyes comically wide in response. Before he could react, his fatigued body was healed, Cas was gone, and Sam stood in the door frame looking bewildered.

 

“Dude. Did you just get it on with the angel?”


End file.
